Welcome to Iron Warriors 4th Grand Company. We hope you enjoy your visit.You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.Join our community!If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Once he was a loyalist veteran sergeant but is now a feared champion among traitors. Posidius, the “Old Breed”, has fought for the IV Legion since the days of the Great Crusade, the Horus Heresy, and the days of ruin that followed in its wake. He cares little for the honor and prestige his viciousness and acts of violence has garnered on the fields of war. His sole devotion is to Perturabo, the father & savior of the Iron Warriors and to his Legion. Posidious has despised many things in his long, twisted, and tortured existence but nothing compares to his hatred for the Tzeentch-worshiping Sorcerer, Sophis. For an Iron Warrior to praise any name but Perturabo’s is a damning act that sparks great ire in Posidious’ iron hearts. He knows such tools will be cast aside once their usefulness has extinguished. Until the time that the Legion can be rid of such filth, the champion will continue to fight the Long War unquestioningly.

Jacobus has served among a squad whose name is nearly lost to history. Those few who do remember never utter its name. It is a shame that confounds and tantalizes the swordsmen. Among this time, Jacobus has served as a deadly example of what the Legions enemies can expect if they do not submit. Even in his mortal years, before his ascension, Jacobus had developed a strong adoration for the sword and blood duels. During innumerable battles the swordsmen has cut down many champions, only to desecrate the remains and make trophies of corpses causing terror among the witness and survivors. Like his sworn Legion brothers, Jacobus holds fast in his devotion to his Primarch, but the whispers of seductions have begun to call the swordsman by his name.

The one named Gaarl prides himself on his Olympian birth, his ascension to the IV Legion, and his many deeds throughout his life. Few flaunt with pride the arranged lines that represent a cage upon his helm’s armored plating, symbolizing the Iron Cage. He remembers the glory of the carnage wrought upon the Imperial Fists, the false emperor’s favored pets, for he was there. He remembers when their defenses on Terra had fallen, when his Primarch’s genius triumphed over Dorn, for he was there. All the battles he fought in the name of the Great Crusade and those that led to the Horus Heresy swell his spirit with pride. It is because he was there, unlike the runt Pieter, a newborn whom he harbors revulsion toward. It is insult enough that such freaks may serve shoulder to shoulder with a veteran, but what drives him to rage is that the runt wears the armor of an honored Legion brother who fell in glorious combat.

A veteran among veterans, Phalanir has served as an Iron Warrior longer than his close comrades. His sword arm and chainsword have brought death to innumerable enemy champions. His stratagems have led to the fall of key points in an enemy’s defense that have led to IV Legions victories. Many conquests would have faltered or dragged on if not for this one Astartes with his words of wisdom or his backbreaking assaults. Yet knowledge of such feats is unknown to his comrades. With his quite demeanor and his patience he goes along almost unnoticeable. Despite his seniority and advanced skill Phalanir avoids glory and recognition, for it draws with it attention to oneself. The old Astartes knows that brother bound by blood and loyalty can betray their own, he has seen it and has partaken in such heinous acts. If one cannot trust a brother in arms then one must watch their own back. So Phalanir watches from afar and manipulates war making with subtle manipulation.

His face is stitched from the flayed flesh of tormented slaves. His new body and strength is a product of technological blasphemy and arcane mysteries. Pieter is a newborn, the offspring of slaves transformed into Astartes to bolster the ranks of the Legion. Such sacrilege has been deemed necessary by many Grand Companies to continue the Long War. He says little and when he does his speech is distorted. He drools at the thought of bloodshed and struggles to keep animalistic inhibitions from overcoming martial discipline. Beneath their pitiful expressions lie innate talents of cunning, tact, and ruthlessness. However, the newborns are the next generation of Iron Warriors and those few veterans who reminisce of the past would weep if their hate did not blind them to the devolution of their Legion by such freak astartes.

Total 250pts

These are the main characters of my Hearts of Iron fluff. Fulfilling a role that not many Iron Warriors are assigned to, this squad uses its skills of infiltration to enter enemy defenses and bastions. From there they will assassinate the enemy's chain of command, destroy ammo caches, and sabotage enemy systems and war machines amongst other, similar acts. All in an effort to demoralize, terrorize, and bring ruin upon their enemy from within their own defenses.

I really like how this game gives me the opportunity to take characters I have made and give them much greater life. Thinking of them as a CSM with weapons loadout given above seem to make them stand out greater than being a character represented as a generic marine.